


I'm fine - Famous last words

by swimmiNgDiNosauR



Series: Melinda May fluff and random stuff [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, May sick, May stubborn, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmiNgDiNosauR/pseuds/swimmiNgDiNosauR
Summary: Melinda is sick and refuses to admit it. Her team help her get through it with a few major dramas.Also, Skye gets Melinda and Phil to admit they like each other.





	1. Denial

Melinda swears. She knew it was a bad idea to move. Her head is heavy and sore and her nose is blocked. She groans and bangs her head against her pillow in frustration. Stars dance in front of her and she swears again. She manages to sit up, resting her head in her hands. She waits until the pain subsides before she stands up. Beads of sweat appear on her forehead as she makes her way to the door. She coughs, hacking up mucus. She opens the door and makes her way to the cockpit. Thankfully, she doesn’t encounter anyone on her way. By the time she gets to the cockpit and collapses in the pilot’s seat, her headache has almost tripled in size.

She turns on autopilot, not trusting herself to be able to capably fly the Bus without making herself any sicker. And there it was. _Sick_. Gah. She hates being sick. She blows her nose and chucks the tissue in the bin. There is a knock on the cockpit door.

“May?”

Phil. Dammit.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice croaky.

There is silence. She sighs. Why hadn’t she pretended she wasn’t in here? Too late now, she muses as the door opens quietly. Phil enters, his footsteps soft as he crosses the short distance to the co-pilot’s seat. He sits down and is silent for a while. Melinda knows he is just letting her have a chance to tell him. The calm before the storm. When she doesn’t say anything, he sighs.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Another chance. She doesn’t take it.

“Fine.” She winces internally as she hears how raspy she sounds.

Coulson moves in the co-pilot’s seat to face her. She doesn’t look at him, concentrating on keeping her expression carefully neutral. He reaches out and she shifts away.

“Melinda…” His voice is gentle. “You sound terrible.”

She snorts and regrets it as it just causes her headache to strengthen. “Nice of you,” she rasps.

His hand comes into her peripheral vision and she moves her head away but he follows her, taking her chin in his hand and turning her head to face him. She glares at him when he won’t let her hide. Before she can stop him, he’s pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. She doesn’t bother trying to get out of his reach; he’s already felt her burning skin. Instead, she ramps her glare up a few notches. He just gives her an unimpressed look.

“Is the autopilot on?” he asks.

She shakes her head, in the hope that he’ll leave her alone for a while to turn it off and come to him willingly.

“Turn it on,” he says and his voice is still gentle. “You can’t fly a plane like this.”

She flicks it off and then on again. He notices and raises an eyebrow. She ignores him, leaning her head against the headrest.

“You’re sick, Melinda.”

“I’m not,” Melinda denies.

“Yes, you are,” he says with a smile at her complaints.

“No, I’m not,” she says firmly.

He just gives her a long hard look before standing up and leaving her alone. She releases a sigh of relief and after checking to make sure there aren’t any storms coming their way, she leaves the cockpit, shutting the door softly behind her.

 

Phil smiles to himself when he hears the cockpit door shut and her footsteps patter quietly along the carpeted floor. He hears her bunk door open from his office and makes a mental note to bring her a cup of tea later.

Fifteen minutes later, he gets up and makes his way to the kitchen where he boils the jug and finds Melinda’s teabags. While he waits for the jug to boil, he listens to the sounds of FitzSimmons arguing in the lab and Skye blasting music in the cargo bay. The jug dings and startles him out of his thoughts.

When he pushes Melinda’s bunk door open, he expects to be greeted with a string of curses and denials. All he gets is silence. He places the mug on her nightstand and then pulls the covers up to her chin. He leaves her in peace and doesn’t hear her quiet whimper when he closes the door.

 

Melinda tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable. Eventually, she manages to fall asleep but it only brings her nightmares. She sees Katya’s hand stretching towards her, steadily increasing no matter how far she moves. Her back hits a wall and she looks up to see a fire raging through a concrete building. Natasha and Clint are trying to escape it but it swallows them up and she sees her team is already in the inferno, screaming. They’re screaming her name.

She bolts upright, eyes flying open, breathing heavily. She realises it was just a nightmare and collapses back onto her bed. It does nothing for her headache which starts back up again. She smells green tea and turns her head to the side to find a cup of tea waiting for her. She smiles and curses Phil in her mind. She kicks the covers off, finding it far too hot and swings her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. She leaves the cup of tea there and goes to check on the kids.

The sound of Skye’s pop music blasting from the cargo bay makes her headache hammer louder. She pokes her head in and makes sure Skye and FitzSimmons are still alive before leaving quickly. On her way back to the cockpit, Phil stops her. He pulls his hand away with a wince when he touches her forehead. It’s probably the duvets fault, she thinks. She’s not sick.

 

Phil winces as he draws his hand back from her forehead. She’s burning up. It’s a wonder she can still stand. She’s too damn stubborn.

“Melinda,” he begins, “You need to rest.” He tries to reason with her but she shrugs him off telling him he’s not sick and to get a life. “You’re sick. Do the others know?”

“No,” she says.

“If you want, we can hide it from them. I’ll bring you fluids and I’ll make up excuses but you have to rest. Deal?”

“I’m not sick,” Melinda repeats, walking off.

He shakes his head in despair. “You are and we both know it,” he calls childishly after her. The only response he gets is a raised middle finger.

 

Melinda sits down in the pilot seat. She blows her nose but it’s still blocked. Her eyelids feel heavy. She should have stayed in her bunk, she thinks. She sighs. Her feet ache and her stomach is going on a roller-coaster ride. She stifles a groan. She hates being sick. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand and slumps in her seat.

She closes her eyes for only a second, she swears but when she wakes up, it’s sunset and she feels worse than before. She tries to stand up but everything hurts and her vision bursts into stars and bright lights so she sits down. Well. She falls back onto the seat and groans but she’ll deny it if anyone says so.

About half an hour later, she checks the time. 7:49. She’ll skip dinner tonight. She stands up and holds onto the back of her seat while she waits for the dizziness to pass. She stumbles towards the cockpit door. She presses down on the door handle and pulls the door open.

Melinda makes her way towards her bunk. She only pauses and rests against the wall twice. Maybe three times. She makes it to her bunk and then turns around and heads for the bathroom. She makes it just in time, sinking to her knees and puking in the toilet bowl. She shudders and wipes her mouth when she’s done. She finds a clean towel in a cupboard. She closes the door behind her in a shower cubicle and turns the water on, making it as cold as she can get it. She washes the vomit from her hair and then just stands there, letting the water run over her. After ten minutes, she turns the water off and dries herself. She puts her clothes back on and rests her head against the cubicle door. Finally, she forces herself to move.

Once she’s in her bunk, she shuts and locks the door, just in case Phil tries to come in and convince her she’s sick. Which she _so_ isn’t. She doesn’t get sick. Ever. Then she unlocks the door because if he finds it locked he’s going to assume the worst. She collapses on her bed on top of the covers. She swears quietly. She should really stop flinging herself onto things when she’s feeling awful. She curls up into a ball and tries to ignore the pain.

An hour and a half later, Phil comes in. He doesn’t bother knocking; he knows she’ll tell him to get lost if he does. He sits down next to her. Her face is beaded with sweat and he can see a wet patch underneath her body. She doesn’t open her eyes, just turns to face him. He strokes her hair. She shuffles closer to him, her face scrunched up in pain.

“Melinda, please,” he says quietly. “You’re in pain and you’re sick. Let me help. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

He doesn’t think she’ll reply. He's wrong.

“’M not sick,” she complains. Her body trembles as a fresh wave pain racks her small frame.

“I’m getting Jemma,” he says, standing up. This is really too much.

“No!” she cries out, reaching for him blindly. “No, _Phil_. Stay. Please.”

He goes back to her and she grabs his suit jacket, pulling him closer to him. When he sits down, she curls up on his lap, head pressed to his chest. He can feel the heat of her skin through their clothes. He rests his hand against her forehead and sucks in a sharp breath. She’s _burning_. He rubs her back whilst he reaches for his phone in his pants pocket. Melinda seems to know what he’s doing though and moves so he can’t reach it.

He exhales deeply. She doesn’t want help. Fine.

Melinda shifts in her place on Phil’s lap, trying to get comfortable. Her stomach twists and she tastes bile in her mouth. She tries to speak but all the comes out is vomit. Phil stills. She shakes, retching. When she’s done, he moves her off him to the ground. He smiles at her gently to let her know he’s not mad at her. He studies the mess and then strips the sheets off the bed. He bundles them up and uses them to mop some of the puke from their clothes and her face. He tucks the dirty sheets under one arm and then wraps his other arm around her waist to keep her standing.

It’s pure luck for Melinda that they meet no one as they make their way to the laundry room. Once the sheets are in the washing machine, Phil picks her up and carries her to his bunk which has a bathroom. He turns on the shower and she peels off her clothes. He turns away to give her some privacy. He makes sure she’s going to be alright before he shuts the door and leaves her to it. There’s no way for her to deny being sick now.

When he hears the shower being turned off, he gives her ten minutes. She comes out in five minutes, wrapped in a towel. He blushes and hurries to find her some clothes. He pulls a black SHIELD Academy T-shirt out of his closet and then grey sweatpants. He passes them to her and then goes to take a shower while she changes.

When he gets out, she’s leaning against his bed, eyes closed. Her hair is still wet. He lifts her up and tucks her into his bed. She waits until he climbs in with her before settling into a position. He wraps his arms around her and holds her to him. She whispers an almost silent sorry. He waits until she’s asleep before shifting ever so slightly to reach his phone. Just before he’s about to grab it, Melinda whimpers. He freezes. Melinda never whimpers. He hugs her tight and whispers sweet nothings until she’s calmed down. While she’s still out of it, he feels her forehead. He can’t tell any difference. She falls asleep again not long after her nightmare and he holds her all night, only managing to drift off around three in the morning.

When he wakes up in the morning, he surmises from the beeping of his alarm, that it’s seven o’clock. Melinda isn’t awake yet. Her head is tucked under his chin and she’s wrapped an arm around him. He untangles himself from her, stunned when she still doesn’t wake. He dresses quickly and then goes to his office.

At nine o’clock, Skye sticks her head in, asking where Melinda is. He doubts she’ll still be in his bunk so he tells her probably the cockpit but if not then he doesn’t know.

 

Skye had woken up extra early to be on time for training with Melinda and she wasn’t even there! When Melinda hadn’t shown at six, she’d trained on her own until nine, when she had gone to Coulson’s office and asked but he hadn’t known either.

She walks the path to the cockpit and knocks on the door. No one answers so she opens it, sees Melinda isn’t in there and turns around. She heads for the rec room and comes across Melinda resting her head against a wall, wearing Coulson’s clothes.

“May?” she asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

Melinda glances up quickly and swears internally. She turns too fast and has to pause so she won’t collapse.

“May?” Skye asks again, reaching a hand out to rest on Melinda’s shoulder.

Melinda takes a deep breath and starts towards her bunk. Skye stops her and she tries to go past but she stumbles and bangs against the wall. She lets out a low groan before she can stop herself. Skye holds her upright and she sags into her touch. Skye wraps an arm around Melinda’s waist and feels her forehead. She pulls away with a hiss. Melinda is like fire. Now that she’s realised it, she can feel the warmth radiating from Melinda’s body and it’s not nice warmth. It’s more like the temperature of lava.

“Melinda, you’re sick,” Skye says in surprise. She hasn’t really thought about Melinda being sick. It doesn’t seem right. She slides down the wall and sits Melinda down. Melinda stands up and goes to walk away, keeping one hand on the wall. Skye runs after her. “Melinda, hey, wait! You’re sick, you should see Jemma.”

“I’m not sick,” Melinda denies tiredly. All she wants is to sleep forever.

“Yes, you are. Hang on, lemme get Phil,” Skye says, running back to his office. “Melinda’s sick,” she bursts out, “And she says she isn’t. Help.”

Coulson runs out after her. They find Melinda a few metres from where Skye had left her. He scoops Melinda up and takes her to her bunk.

“Skye, can you go and get Jemma, please,” he says.

“Yeah, sure.” She’s about to go when Melinda stops her.

“ _Skye_ ,” she groans in pain. She shifts in Phil’s arms. “Skye, _please_.”

Skye hesitates. Coulson lays Melinda on her bed and then closes the door. He looks so worried Skye can’t help but think he should be with Melinda.

“What do we do?” he asks.

Skye doesn’t know. She’s never had a fever past 100°. “Jemma but…” She gestures helplessly at Melinda.

“Alright,” Coulson says. “We’ll give her another day and if she’s not getting better than we tell Jemma.”

Melinda groans in pain. Her eyes are squeezed shut. Skye nods in agreement. She wipes the sweat off Melinda’s forehead.

“Can we do anything for her?” Skye asks.

Phil shakes his head. “Not until tomorrow.”

They wait with Melinda until they fall asleep. Skye wakes up first and grins when she sees Melinda’s head on Phil’s lap. She takes a picture before one of them can move but the flash wakes Phil up. He blinks and sits up, disturbing Melinda. She sits up slowly, trying not to show any pain on her face but it’s a futile attempt.

She breathes out and in evenly, trying to ignore the pain. She can’t be weak. She has to be strong for them.


	2. Fever

Phil stands up and she glances up at him. He crouches down to her height and scoops her up, an arm under her knees and around her back. She protests weakly but Phil is warm and inviting. She rests her head against his chest and for a minute her headache lessens into just pounding, not a full-blown storm.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” he teases.

She glowers at him, pulling her head away. A few seconds later though, she’s leaning back against him. They pass Elena on the way to the Med Bay who stares at Melinda in concern.

“Is she okay?” she asks.

“She’s sick,” Phil says.

“’M not,” Melinda mumbles, sniffing.

“You sound it,” Elena says, walking alongside them.

FitzSimmons are tinkering away in the lab when Phil walks in. Jemma notices him first and then sees Melinda. She frowns. Fitz looks up when she nudges him and freezes when he sees Melinda. His eyes flick from Melinda to Coulson.

“How bad?” Jemma asks.

“I don’t know but her forehead is pretty hot,” Phil says, shifting as Melinda tries to bury herself in him. “I’d say a fever.”

“I’m not sick,” Melinda grumbles.

Jemma feels Melinda’s forehead. She winces and can only imagine how Melinda is feeling. “You’re burning up.”

“Not,” Melinda mutters.

“Bring her to the Med Bay,” Jemma says, walking out of the lab.

Coulson follows her and when they reach the Med Bay, he lays her down on a bed with a thin mattress, a starched white sheet and a stiff pillow. Melinda sits up and a wave of pain washes over her.

“Open up,” Jemma says with a smile, holding a thermometer.

Melinda just looks at her. She seems to be in a lot of pain.

“C’mon, May,” Jemma encourages. “Just a little.”

Melinda doesn’t move a muscle. Eventually, Coulson reaches over and pulls on Melinda’s jaw. Her mouth opens easily and Jemma sticks the thermometer in while she can. She makes sure Melinda won’t spit it out and then rummages around in the cupboards for Tylenol. She checks Melinda’s temperature and winces. 107.3 degrees Fahrenheit.

“Alright, Agent May,” Jemma says, noting that Melinda has laid down and closed her eyes. “Would you prefer a sponge bath or a real bath?”

Jemma’s voice reverberates inside her head. She groans and turns away. She opens her eyes and immediately closes them again, the lights blinding her.

“Melinda?” Jemma’s voice is softer now. “We need to get your temperature down. A bath is probably the least complicated option we have right now.”

Melinda just groans again, curling into a ball. Someone is rubbing circles on her back. It’s probably Phil. She opens her eyes cautiously and sees their worried faces.

“’M fine,” she slurs.

Skye snorts. “There’s no way in hell you’re _fine_.”

Melinda mumbles something incoherent. Her knees touch her nose and she sniffs.

“Do you want some Tylenol?” Jemma asks.

Melinda shifts, almost unnoticeable. She lets out a whimper as pain racks her body.

“You have to respond verbally,” Jemma says although she is coming close enough to giving her the medication even with verbal consent.

“Yes,” Melinda wails.

Just before Jemma sticks the syringe in Melinda’s arm, Melinda’s body spasms out of her control and her eyes roll up into her skull. Jemma tries to rouse her but it’s no use. She’s out cold and not coming round anytime soon.

“How long has she had this fever?” Jemma asks.

Coulson and Skye glance at each other. Jemma raises her eyebrows.

“Couple of days,” Coulson says.

Elena whistles. “Damn.”

“Why didn’t you bring her to me earlier?” Jemma questions. She could have helped. Stopped it getting this bad.

“She didn’t want to. Still doesn't,” Coulson says. “I tried to make a deal with her but she ignored me.”

“What deal?”

“I’d make up excuses and not tell you but she had to rest.”

Jemma mulls it over. “That’s not a terrible deal.”

Coulson smirks. “Glad you approve.”

Jemma goes to respond but she is distracted by Melinda trying to fall off the bed. Jemma stops the older agent and scowls at Coulson.

“If you’d brought her to me earlier,” Jemma says, “ I could have done something so that it didn’t get this bad. As it is, her temperature is 107.3° and she’s having a fever seizure.”

Jemma waits until the seizure passes. It only lasts for three minutes so she isn’t too worried. Then Melinda moans quietly in agony. She twists on the bed like she’s trying to escape the pain. Jemma pokes the syringe into Melinda’s veins and squeezes the plunger. It takes fifteen minutes before Melinda relaxes slightly. It’s another ten minutes before she wakes up.

Melinda struggles to sit up, her mouth tasting like cotton. (Yes, she does know what cotton tastes like after a birthday prank from Phil.) The bright lights hurt her eyes but she can make out a few shapes that she assumes are her team before she has to shut her eyes. Someone turns the lights down. She opens her eyes cautiously and sees Elena, Jemma, Skye and Phil. She wets her lips nervously.

Jemma.

Crap.

 

Elena notices Melinda wetting her lips nervously and glances at Jemma who is glaring at the senior agent. Oh dear. Looks like Dr Simmons is coming out and there is no way Melinda is going to survive this.

“I’ll go run a bath,” Elena says and she doesn’t miss Melinda’s wince at the loudness of her voice.

Jemma nods her thanks and Elena escapes. She crashes into Bobbi as she runs around a corner towards the bathroom. They fall to the ground. Bobbi lets out a puff of air.

“You’re not running from Mack again, are you?” she grins as they both stand up.

Last week, Elena had insulted Mack in Spanish and he hadn’t even bothered to ask what it meant, he had just chased her and now everyone knew that Elena’s knees were ticklish.

Elena shakes her head. “Dr Simmons.”

Bobbi sighs. “If you’re sick, you’ve gotta rest and take your meds.”

“Not me,” Elena tells her. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “ _Melinda May_.”

Bobbi pauses. “You’re telling me _the_ Melinda May is sick.”

“Very,” Elena confirms. “107.3°.”

“Okay, now I understand why you’re running,” Bobbi says.

“I’m going to run a bath,” Elena says. She leaves Bobbi smirking in the corridor. She turns the tap on lukewarm in the bathroom and waits until it’s a few inches from the top.

Coulson comes in, carrying Melinda in his arms like a child. Jemma and Skye are right behind him. Coulson blushes when he realises he’s going to have to take Melinda’s clothes off as she’s not lucid enough to be able to do it herself. Elena rolls her eyes and takes Melinda’s – well, Coulson’s really – T-shirt off and then unbuttons her jeans. Coulson lifts Melinda's hips so that Elena can pull the jeans off.

Melinda comes into her own mind for long enough to see the water-filled bath and sense her partial nudity. She struggles in Coulson’s arms, grabbing onto his suit jacket. He stands up, lifting her with him and kicks off his shoes. He shrugs off his jacket and she clutches his shirt instead. He sighs and tries to place her in the bath but she kicks out and hangs onto his neck. Elena and Skye snicker quietly and he gives them a half-hearted glare but they can tell he doesn’t mean it. He rolls up his sleeves while Melinda hangs on to him despite Jemma pleading with her. Coulson pulls his socks off and Elena grins, having a feeling she knows where this is going.

Coulson steps into the bath and holds onto Melinda tightly, even though she struggles. He sits down, letting the cool water rush over them. Melinda screams, splashing water everywhere. Elena feels slightly bad. She may have filled the bath with slightly colder water than she should have. Okay, maybe a lot colder. But it will help Melinda’s fever go down quicker. At least, that’s what she tells herself. She doesn’t really know anything about fevers.

 

Melinda screams as the water touches her skin. Her body temperature makes it seem colder than it really is. The water is like ice. Phil is holding her tightly, not letting her escape. She kicks out and he locks his ankles with hers to stop her. She shivers violently. Phil’s hands run up and down her arms, trying to warm her up. While his arms aren’t holding her down, she takes the chance to escape. She launches herself out of the bath and almost makes it but Phil grabs her. She hears the click of photos being taken but she ignores it. It’s probably Skye, anyway. Her hands make it to the floor and her head does too, making her stifle a groan, but Phil’s arms are around her waist.

“Melinda!” Jemma exclaims, going to catch her but Elena beats her to it.

Elena catches Melinda’s torso before she can hurt herself anymore. She pushes her back into the bath and Phil hugs her. She climbs up his chest, trying to stay out of the water. Elena pulls Melinda fully into the water. As payback, Melinda hooks her ankles around Elena’s hands and drags her in. Elena ends up sitting in the bath with her legs over the edge, soaking. Coulson laughs quietly and Elena sends him a dirty look. Skye cackles until Elena splashes her and she shrieks, hiding behind Jemma who raises an eyebrow. Elena puts her hands up in surrender. She goes to get out but Melinda lets out a low whine. Elena sighs and stays in the bath. The water is pretty cold, actually. No wonder Melinda screamed.

Someone knocks on the door. Jemma opens it and Bobbi comes in. She laughs at Elena who gives her a good-natured smile.

“I brought cookies,” Bobbi says, holding up a box of biscuits as a peace offering.

Jemma smiles. “Once her temperature is below 105°.”

Bobbi glances at Melinda who has rolled over onto her front and is laying on Coulson, her hands curled into fists. Her eyes are closed and her feet are floating over Elena.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Bobbi says, leaving the biscuits with Jemma.

Jemma moves over to Melinda and gently opens her mouth to stick the thermometer in. When she takes it out, it reads 106.5°. Jemma smiles.

“It’s going down, thank God. 106.5°,” she tells them.

Elena sighs in relief. “Can I get out now, then?”

“Nope,” Coulson says. “If I have to endure this then so do you.”

Elena rolls her eyes but stays in the bath.

A couple of hours later, when Melinda’s temperature reads 106.1°, Jemma tells them that they can get out now if they want. Coulson lifts Melinda out of the water slowly. Jemma has a towel ready when Coulson steps out of the bath. Elena slips when getting out and falls back in, dunking herself.

Jemma wraps Melinda in a towel and they walk out of the bathroom to Melinda’s bunk. Coulson and Elena drip along the hallway, much to the amusement of the others. Melinda is super light so Jemma has no problem carrying her. It’s something she’ll worry about later when Melinda isn’t so sick.

Melinda’s bunk is barely decorated, a picture of her and her mom when she was little on the nightstand but everything else is blank. Elena picks of the photo and aws. Melinda doesn’t even realise. Coulson unwraps the towel from the Melinda and places her under the covers on her bed. She pulls the duvet around her.

Melinda feels slightly better. Her headache isn’t as bad and she doesn’t feel so hot. Still, she has sweat running down her back. Someone squeezes her shoulder and then she drifts off. She doesn’t have any nightmares which is a relief, but when she wakes up, Jemma is sitting in a chair that she must have bought from somewhere else, reading. Melinda rolls over, alerting Jemma to her consciousness.

“How are you feeling?” Jemma asks quietly.

“Like I got hit by a train,” Melinda grumbles.

“Do you know why that is?” Jemma asks, setting her book down.

Melinda realises the trap she’s fallen for. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“’Cause fevers sucks.” Melinda shifts into a more comfortable position.

“No. It’s because you didn’t come to me or anyone else for help when you first started feeling sick. Your temperature was over 107°,” Jemma says sternly. “Why didn’t you come to us? You were obviously in a lot of pain.”

Melinda rolls to face the wall. She still _is_ in a lot of pain.

“The Tylenol I gave you should have worn off by now,” Jemma says. “So you can have another shot if you want.”

“Yes,” Melinda mumbles.

Jemma stands. “Come on, up you hop. I left my equipment in the Med Bay, so you’ll have to come with me.”

Melinda mutters something unintelligible but Jemma knows from the sound of her voice that it was not pleasant. She pulls back the covers and sighs. Melinda is only wearing her underwear. Jemma is about to look for clothes for Melinda to wear when the bunk door opens and Coulson comes in. He’s carrying Melinda’s clothes that she was wearing yesterday. He brightens when he sees her.

“Are you going to take her to the Med Bay?” he asks. Jemma nods. He hands her the clothes. “Then you can take those as well.” His cheeks are pink.

“No way, sir. If I have to dress my superior, then you have to dress your crush,” she says and then realises she just said crush. “I mean, friend.”

His cheeks go even redder and she stares at him in astonishment.

“You – She … You like her!” she crows in excitement.

“Of course I do. She’s my best friend. Now, I’ll lift her, you put the pants on her,” he says, his face flaming.

“You do love her,” Jemma grins. She feels a bit like Skye. That’s probably not a good thing.

Coulson sits Melinda in his lap and lifts her legs up. Jemma crouches down, still smiling. Finally. Proof. She slides the sweatpants up until about mid-way up Melinda’s thighs. Coulson lifts Melinda’s hips up and Jemma pushes the sweatpants on properly. Coulson sits Melinda up but she slumps against him, snuggling into him. Skye walks past at that moment and coos, leaning against the door frame.

“I’ll hug you when you put your T-shirt on,” he reasons.

“Now,” Melinda mumbles. “An’ it’s your T-shirt.”

Coulson narrows his eyes at Skye who has opened her mouth. “Not a word.”

“Aw,” Skye teases. “Are you embarrassed?”

Coulson doesn’t answer, scowling at the two.

“You like her!” Skye shrieks. “Yes! Finally!” She hugs Jemma. “She’s even wearing your _clothes_.”

Melinda mutters something under her breath. She curls up in a ball on Coulson’s lap and holds her head.

“Fine,” Coulson says. “Hugs now. Then T-shirt.”

Melinda smiles dopily and for a second, the pain goes away but then it comes back, rushing through her with all the force of a great typhoon. She buries herself in Phil, screwing up her face. After a minute, Phil pulls away. Melinda whines in protest, reaching for him. She hears Skye laugh at her but she can’t care less right now. All she wants is for the pain to go and Phil makes her forget about it.

“You’ve had hugs. Now it’s time for your T-shirt,” Phil says, making her glare at him. It’s not her best glare.

“ _Your_ T-shirt,” Melinda says.

Skye throws it to him and he catches it, pulling it over her head. She sticks her arms through the arm holes and then cuddles back up to him.

“Alright, May,” Jemma says. “If you want some Tylenol, you have to come to the Med Bay.”

Melinda goes to stand even though it hurts but Phil catches her, lifting her off her feet. She smiles at him through the pain and snuggles closer.

In the Med Bay, Phil puts her down on one of the white beds with mattresses as hard as rocks. Jemma gives her two pills and a glass of water. Melinda lays down, closing her eyes and trying to control her breathing in the hope that it will make the pain go away. It doesn’t help at all. Even shut, her eyes hurt. She clenches her fists and then jerks when she feels a prick in her arm. She opens her eyes warily and sees Jemma squeezing something into her bloodstream.

Then everything goes black.


	3. Pain

Melinda wakes up in the Med Bay. There’s a needle in her elbow connected to an IV which she assumes is pumping some sort of painkiller in her. Bobbi is sleeping beside her but no one else is in the room. She’s about to leave, however drugged up she feels when Bobbi wakes up.

“Oh, thank God. You’re still here,” she says in relief.

“’S not like I can go anywhere at th’ momen’,” Melinda slurs. Whatever drug Jemma gave her is still in her blood. It’s really damn annoying.

Bobbi grins. “I’d hunt you down anyway.”

Melinda rolls her eyes and immediately regrets it, wincing in pain. Bobbi looks concerned. She holds down on a button on the IV and Melinda has time to mumble something about betrayal before she’s out cold.

Bobbi rubs the sleep out of her eyes and sits up straighter when she hears Jemma’s footsteps. Jemma comes in and smiles.

“She still asleep, then?” Jemma checks Melinda’s vitals, makes sure everything’s okay.

“Just woke up. I put the morphine up and she was out like a light,” Bobbi says.

“Great. You can go if you want, I guess, considering she’s not going to wake up for at least another five hours.” Jemma picks up the blanket on the floor that Melinda has thrown off in her sleep and tucks it up to her chin. She brushes Melinda’s hair from her face before she leaves, too.

 

Skye hounds Coulson as he tries to make pancakes.

“You looove her,” she sings. “You know you do.”

Coulson ignores her and maybe he mixes the pancake mix a little harder than he needs to.

“You should tell her,” Skye suggests.

Coulson snorts. “I don’t love her.”

“Yeah, you do,” Skye says. “Anybody can see it.”

“No, they can’t. There’s nothing there,” he insists.

“Phil and Melinda, sitting up a tree,” she mocks,” K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marr–”

“If you keep singing, you’ll be getting no pancakes,” he threatens.

Skye pulls herself up, giving him an offended look. “Fine. But she wanted hugs ‘ _now’_ and she wore your clothes willingly. Also, you sat in a bathtub with her.”

“Skye,” he warns.

“Okay, fine,” she complains. “I’m going, jeez.” She leaves the kitchen but not before she yells, “Coulson loves May!”

Hunter snickers behind him and he whirls around, holding the whisk like a weapon. He relaxes when he sees it’s just Hunter.

“Are you waiting for pancakes?” he asks to distract himself from Skye’s words. Melinda doesn’t do love. Not after Andrew. Not after Bahrain.

“Yes,” Hunter says. “But you’ll be done in like an hour so… You and May, huh. I can see that, actually.”

Coulson sighs. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t love her.”

“Man, you two are worse than me and Bobbi,” Hunter says with a grin. “Cheers. We aren’t the worst couple on the base.”

“We’re not a couple,” Coulson tells him firmly. “And anyway, even if I did want to – which I don’t – Melinda doesn’t do love.”

Hunter’s smirk tells him he should have shut his mouth. He sighs and turns back to his pancakes.

 

Elena finds Mack in the garage, working on one of the SUV’s.

“Hey, turtle-man,” she greets.

He rolls out from under the SUV and grins at her.

“Hey,” he says. “How are you?”

“Guess what?” she smirks, ignoring his question.

“What?”

“I said guess.” Elena puts her hands on her hips.

Mack stands up and thinks. “Someone’s died?”

Elena shakes her head.

“May’s died?”

“Well…” Elena draws out. “She will have, in like, two days.”

“What?” Mack exclaims. “How? Why?”

Elena laughs at him. “She’s sick. Like, can’t move sick.”

“She’s sick so she’s going to die?” Mack question, looking totally confused. He wipes his hands on a rag and picks up a wrench.

“She refused to tell Jemma for two days,” Elena says.

There’s silence. Then a loud bang as Mack drops the wrench.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I ran her a lukewarm bath that was probably a little colder than it should have been. She pushed me in,” Elena tells him.

“She’s screwed. We’re all screwed,” Mack says, picking up the wrench.

“I know. We need to hide until it’s over. This is worse than the zombie apocalypse.”

 

Skye pesters Melinda about loving Coulson until she ups the morphine dose – she’d found out what the stupid IV was pumping her full of – and knocks herself out. Skye sits there, stunned into silence.

 

Melinda wakes up with no one else in the Med Bay. She can’t believe her luck. She sits up slowly and finds that most of the drugs have disappeared from her system. Her head still pounds and her stomach is still sore but she should be able to get to her bunk. She gently pulls the needle from her elbow, not wanting to look like a heroin addict. She stands up and grabs onto the bed for support.

No one comes in so she risks it and makes her way to the door. She only stumbles once. Fine. Twice. She can hear Phil in her head, telling her to get back on the bed and rest and she can hear Jemma in her head, telling her that her body needs lots of rest and fluids.

She’s swimming in sweat but she makes it past the door and up the stairs in the cargo hold. She’s tired and sweaty and hot. Okay, maybe she was kidding herself when she thought she’d be able to get to her bunk. She grits her teeth and keeps going but she should have turned left and hidden because Jemma’s suddenly walking towards her and where the hell did she come from?

“May,” Jemma says.

“Jem’,” Melinda slurs.

“You need to rest,” Jemma says, although she has a hard time keeping a smile off her face because Melinda _is_ awfully cute like this.

“It hurts,” she groans.

“I know it does,” Jemma reassures her. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” She wraps an arm around Melinda to help steady her and inhales sharply. The temperature coming from Melinda is far too hot. “We need to get you to the Med Bay now.”

Melinda lets out a pitiful moan and collapses against her.

“Melinda!”

The voice rings loudly in her head which does nothing to help her headache. Jemma grunts and lifts her up, hurrying to the Med Bay. She sticks a thermometer in Melinda’s mouth and wets a facecloth while she waits. She places the cloth on Melinda’s forehead and checks the temperature. 106.7°. Shite. It’s going up. She sticks the needle from the IV back in Melinda’s left arm and turns up the dosage. She fills a glass with cold water and finds a straw. She places it to Melinda’s lips and waits until she opens.

“Drink,” Jemma commands.

Melinda obeys, mainly because she’s too tired and sore to do much else. She gulps down the water quickly until Jemma pulls the cup away.

“Slowly,” she instructs.

Melinda nods. She sips slowly until she can’t drink anymore. The cool water takes away some of the pain but not much.

“Good,” Jemma says. “How do you feel?”

Melinda just groans in response. Now that the water is gone, she feels even more terrible. The facecloth on her forehead does little to help.

“Can you eat?” Jemma asks.

Melinda slowly shakes her head. “Nng.”

“Can you try?” She reaches for a muesli bar and unwraps it.

Melinda scrunches up her face when Jemma presses it gently against her lips. Jemma takes the muesli bar away and Melinda relaxes.

“Just a little bit,” she wheedles, breaking off a small chunk.

Melinda opens her mouth a little and Jemma slides the chunk in. Melinda chews and swallows and then rolls onto her side, grimacing. Jemma hooks her up to another IV and places a bag of pain relief on the hook. She inserts a needle into the inside of her right elbow. Melinda doesn't try to take it out. She pretends to fall asleep on her stomach, the pillow over her head. She must be convincing because Jemma leaves.

Jemma leaves her like that and joins her team in the common room. They’re eating pancakes – all of them except for Hunter for some reason – and watching Animal Planet. She brightens up and sits down on the couch beside Leo. Coulson hands her a plate of pancakes.

“How is she?” Coulson asks.

Skye smirks. “Worried about your _girlfriend_?” she teases.

Coulson glares at her, ears reddening. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you want her to be,” she persists.

Coulson reaches over to her and takes her pancakes.

“Hey!” she protests.

Jemma suddenly understands why Hunter has no pancakes.

“You should have thought about that,” Coulson says, eating Skye’s last pancake smugly.

Skye scowls at him. “I hope she kicks your ass.”

“What, you can’t?” he taunts.

“Shut up.”

He smirks.

“She’s just resting now,” Jemma tells him.

“Resting,” Bobbi says in disbelief.

“It’s still resting even if she’s drugged,” Jemma defends herself. “And she escaped, anyway, so it was her own fault.”

Coulson doesn’t look surprised. “When will she wake up?”

Jemma frowns. “She’s smaller than average people, so the drugs will stay in her system longer, so maybe tomorrow.”

“I’m telling her you called her small,” Hunter says.

“I’ll tell her you called her tiny,” Jemma shoots back.

“Who called me tiny?” someone mumbles from the doorway.

Everyone looks over. Jemma stands up and rushes over.

Melinda is leaning against the doorframe. She’s not doing a very good job to hide her pain or the fact that she’s as high as a kite. Jemma helps her stand upright and understands perfectly what Melinda is doing up.

“I suppose you tricked me into thinking you were asleep,” Jemma says.

Melinda nods in agreement. It had taken all her energy to make it to the common room. Jemma leads her slowly over to Coulson who looks surprised but doesn’t stop Melinda from collapsing on top of him. Skye smirks at him, eyes challenging him to question her. He just rolls his eyes and hides behind Melinda. Melinda sniffs and closes her eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

Skye cackles. “She’s so in love with you.”

“’M not,” Melinda mumbles into his shirt. Then she stifles a groan.

Phil stands, much to her disgust. She lands on the floor, glaring up at him. He curses and reaches down to pick her up but she just rolls away. She stops under the table and closes her eyes.

“Melin _da_ ,” he grumbles.

“Phi- _il_ ,” she mimics almost incoherently.

“I didn’t mean to drop you,” he tries.

“I didn’ mean t’ drop you,” she parrots, slurring her words a little. “Hmph. Still did.”

“You sound drunk,” he tells her, shifting the table.

She wraps herself around his feet and won’t let go.

“Phil, it hurts,” she complains plaintively.

“Well, I was going to take you to the Med Bay, but you obviously don’t want to go there,” he says.

She hates him.

“C’mon, Mel,” he says gently. “Up.”

She rolls onto her back and lifts her arms up. Hunter falls off the couch, he’s laughing so hard. Coulson ignores him and lifts her up, wrapping his arms around her. When she just hangs limply from him, he bounces her up and puts an arm under her butt and one around her back to keep her supported.

“She’s like an oversized baby,” Hunter whispers quietly to Skye.

He’s lucky that Melinda is too drugged to hear him to maim him.

“She’s not that much oversized,” Skye whispers back.

She’s lucky that Melinda is too drugged to hear to kill her.

Coulson snorts. He sits down with Melinda in his lap. “Any pain, you tell me,” he says quietly. She nods without registering what he’s said. “I mean it, Melinda. Any pain, you tell me or we go to Jemma.”

Jemma is slightly flattered that she's considered a threat. Maybe she can be intimidating and confident, too. Melinda nods again, still no more comprehensive than before. Jemma supposed the drugs are finally taking hold.

“You’re comfy,” Melinda murmurs, snuggling closer.

“You’re drugged,” Phil tells her.

“’M not,” she mutters. She winces as a headache comes knocking. She vaguely remembers Phil’s threat and tries to make her voice work but she can’t.

Phil can see Melinda’s mouth working but there’s no sound coming from her. “Does it hurt?” he asks quietly.

Melinda can hear Phil’s voice. She tries again to speak but her voice won’t obey her.

“Melinda?” he asks.

She nods weakly. He stands up, still holding her, catching the attention of the others who had gone back to watching Animal Planet.

“Could you…” He trails off, looking at Jemma.

She nods and walks to the Med Bay with him. Melinda shifts in his arms, letting out a small whimper.

“ _Phil_ ,” she groans.

“I’m here,” he reassures her. “Jemma’s going to help you.”

“No,” she complains. “Can’t … Gotta be strong for them.”

Jemma pretends not to hear their conversation, but now that she knows this, everything suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“No, you don’t,” Coulson is saying. “We’ll look after you. You don’t need to be strong all the time.”

Melinda moans in response, shifting again.

“Hang on, Mel,” Coulson says.

Jemma finds herself smiling. _Mel_. They reach the Med Bay and Jemma hooks Melinda up to an IV. They have to wait a minute before the pain relief kicks in. Jemma takes Melinda temperatures. 106.2°. It’s going down, thankfully, however slowly.

“Is it safe to put her in another bath?” Coulson asks.

Jemma nods. “Yes. We just need to get her temperature down. Preferably below 100°.”

Coulson nods. “Should I run the bath or you?”

“I will,” Jemma says. “You stay with her – make sure she doesn’t run away.”

Coulson smirks. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Jemma nods and runs up to the closest bathroom. She runs the bath and then races back down to the Med Bay to get Melinda and Coulson. Coulson takes the needle out of Melinda’s elbow and picks her up. They walk quickly to the bathroom. The bath is half full. Jemma checks the temperature and turns it a little colder. Once it’s three-quarters of the way full, Jemma turns the tap off. Melinda’s half asleep but once Coulson tries to take her T-shirt off, she becomes aware enough to recognise her surroundings. Coulson stops her failed attempts to escape and grabs her hand, dipping it into the water.

“See? Not as cold as last time,” he says.

Melinda just glares at him groggily. He succeeds in taking her T-shirt off and then her pants. He places her in the lukewarm water, steadying himself with a hand against the wall when she pulls on his hand weakly. He sits down beside her, this time out of the water, holding her hand. She cuddles it against her face and falls asleep. Coulson keeps her head out of the water.

They stay like that for almost an hour. Jemma brings back a couple of books and begins to read. Coulson just watches Melinda. When she wakes up, her fingers and toes are wrinkled like prunes. Coulson lifts his partner out of the water. Jemma hands him a thick towel and he dries her off before slipping her T-shirt back on. Jemma helps him put the sweatpants on before they take her back to the Med Bay. Her temperature is now 105.4°.

“Point four degrees lower and then you can have one of Bobbi’s biscuits,” Jemma says with a slight smile.

Melinda keeps hold of Coulson’s hand until he realises what she wants. He climbs onto the bed and lays down beside her. Jemma smirks triumphantly at him while she hooks Melinda up the IV. Coulson rolls his eyes and pulls the thin blanket over them.

“I won’t tell Skye,” Jemma promises just before she leaves.

Coulson says, “Good,” before he wraps both arms around his tiny partner. Not that he would ever call her that to her face.

Sometime in the night, Melinda rolls over to face him. When he wakes up, Melinda has tucked herself under his chin and wrapped an arm around him. He’s still holding her tightly. He yawns and kisses her nose, much to her annoyance. She mutters something that he’s sure is rude and buries her face in his neck again. Now that he’s slightly more awake, he can hear muffled laughter. He swears quietly and glares at his team.

“You can’t tell me that’s platonic,” Skye grins, videoing them with her phone.

Coulson’s about to tell her off when Melinda beats him to it.

“If you don't shut up right now, I will make training start at four in the morning,” she mumbles.

Coulson smirks at the horrified look on her face. “Take that.”

Skye mimes zipping her mouth and throwing away the key. Bobbi pulls back the blanket and Coulson sits up. Melinda keeps laying down.

“You said Mack could show you how to make cookies today,” Bobbi frowns.

Melinda swears at her.

“She’s sick,” Jemma says. “She’s not making anything until she’s better.”

“What about a relationship?” Skye asks, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“You’re hurting my head,” Melinda complains.

“Well, you hurt my feelings,” Skye shoots back.

“Which time?”

Skye snorts. “That says something about our relationship.”

“We won’t be having a relationship anymore if you keep going on about me and Ph–Coulson,” Melinda says.

Skye beams. “You keep calling him Phil.”

“That is my name,” Coulson tells her, absentmindedly rubbing circles on her hand.

Bobbi’s eagle eyes pick up on it.

“Jemma,” Melinda groans, before someone else can ruin her morning. “Can you send them out? Please?”

“That’s just rude,” Hunter says as Jemma ushers them out.

“Fitz is my favourite!” Melinda yells at their backs. “You bunch of heathens!” Then she doubles over in a coughing fit.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Jemma tells her.

“An’ you,” Melinda mumbles. “You an’ Leo.”

Jemma glances up with wide eyes. That’s the first time she’s heard Melinda call Fitz Leo. Coulson slides off the bed and pulls the blanket up to Melinda’s chin.

Melinda tries to sleep. She hears the two of them leave and sits up. She hates the Med Bay. Her bunk is much nicer. She can probably make it there. Hopefully. She swings her legs over the side and stands up. The IV machine nearly falls over but she catches it and pulls the needle out of her arm. IV’s are also dumb, she decides. She starts to think this might have been a bad idea when she starts to feel sick, halfway up the stairs. She grits her teeth and makes her feet move, clutching onto the handrail. At the top of the stairs, she wipes her face on her T-shirt and wishes she had stayed put. Too late now. She can’t go back down those stairs without falling over.

The walk to her bunk usually takes less than two minutes. It takes her ten minutes just to get halfway. Her breathing is laboured and she’s seeing two of everything which makes her walk into walls. By the time she gets to her bunk and pulls the door open, it takes everything in her to stop herself from falling on her bed and never waking up. She shuts the door and slides under the duvet.

Jemma finds her there ten hours later, curled up into a ball in an attempt to stop the pain. She tries to take Melinda back to the Med Bay so she can help but Melinda lashes out wildly, not knowing who’s touching her but they aren’t making the pain go away like Phil does so they can _get the hell away_. Jemma calls for Coulson, stepping away from Melinda. Coulson comes running, a concerned look on his face and Jemma doesn’t even bother teasing him like Skye would do. She just backs off and points wordlessly at Melinda. Coulson understands instantly.

“Why didn’t you stay in the Med Bay?” he asks and Jemma finds herself thinking he would make an excellent dad. Melinda would probably make a good mum, too, if she ever grew out of her immaturity.

Melinda doesn’t answer except for a shudder.

“Melinda?” he questions. “Jemma can help you better when you’re in the Med Bay. You’ve probably made yourself worse.”

“I like my bunk,” Melinda says in a small voice, laced with pain.

“I know you do. Why didn’t you stay in the Med Bay?” he asks again.

“I like my bunk,” Melinda repeats.

“So you left the place that was helping you and came here,” Coulson says. “Everyone is looking for you.”

Jemma knows for a fact that they all stopped when they heard her yell for Coulson.

“Med Bay sucks,” Melinda mumbles.

“I know,” Coulson says, “But Jemma doesn’t suck and she can help you in the Med Bay. She can’t help you here.”

“Don’t care.”

Jemma sighs. “If I bring meds, you have to rest and drink lots of fluids. Otherwise, you go back to the Med Bay.” She waits for Melinda to nod. “Oh, and someone is beside you all the time.”

Melinda rolls over and gives Jemma a glare through pain lidded eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“We’ll see. If you try to ditch them, I’ll know you obviously need several, though, so I wouldn’t try my luck if I were you,” Jemma says. “And I know you won’t run away from them because you’re a Level 7 SHIELD agent who knows better.”

Jemma hears a muffled curse word starting with F. “Language, Melinda,” she says, hiding her amusement.

Melinda says it again with an added word that sounds suspiciously like 'You'. Coulson hides his smile.

“I’ll draw up a roster,” Jemma says.

“I’ll help,” Coulson says.

“Betrayal,” Melinda mutters. Then she inhales sharply as her stomach threatens to empty itself.

 

Throughout the course of the next few days, Jemma makes sure someone stays with Melinda all the time. Melinda only tries to run away twice, once with Mack and once with Bobbi. Now she’s currently sprawled on the floor, ignoring Skye. She wipes sweat from her face yet again and tries to sleep. Her stomach twists suddenly and she sits up, looking for a bin. There’s one in the corner. She reaches it just in time. Skye bounds over and holds her hair out of the way.

“I think you’re getting better,” Skye says after Melinda has emptied her stomach contents.

Melinda makes a non-committal noise and yanks on Skye’s hand. Skye lets herself be dragged to the floor. She has an idea of where this is going. She smirks to herself when Melinda curls around her, resting her head on Skye’s shoulder. Skye wraps an arm around the older agent.

“Who would have known?” Skye teases. “The Cavalry is cuddly.”

Melinda scowls and pulls away but Skye stops her.

“No, I’m sorry, come back,” she complains.

Melinda lets herself be pulled back into Skye’s embrace. She rolls onto her side to get more comfortable and Skye follows, wrapping around her back.

It’s only slightly annoying that she has to be the little spoon.


	4. Finally

Melinda’s fever breaks a day later. She shivers, despite the heat of the Bus. (Fitz broke the air con when he was trying to fix it and then had to build a tracker to find Ward so the air con has been put to the side.) She kicks the blanket off her, letting it pile on the floor beside her. She smears sweat across her forehead with the back of her hand when she tries to wipe it off. She hears footsteps and sighs. _Jemma_. Probably with bad news.

When Jemma opens Melinda’s bunk door and sees her sprawled on the floor, wearing black clothes like an idiot, she sighs and shuts the door. She opens the door again and hopes that she’s dreaming. Sadly, she isn’t.

“Melinda, you’re an idiot,” she says in as nice a voice as possible.

“’S not very nice,” Melinda mumbles. She curls up into a ball.

“Are you hot or cold?” Jemma asks, reaching for her thermometer.

“Both.”

“Open wide,” Jemma says, pressing the thermometer against Melinda’s lips.

Melinda relaxes her jaw and Jemma pokes the thermometer in. The temperature reads 103.2°. Melinda stretches and sits up. Almost immediately the nausea sets in. She attempts to grab the bin but she can reach it. Luckily, Jemma understands and quickly passes it to her, pulling her hair out of the way. Melinda empties her stomach until she’s just retching. Her eyes sting and her mouth tastes bad.

“Do you want a drink?” Jemma asks.

Melinda nods.

“Alright. You go freshen up and I’ll make you lunch,” Jemma says.

Melinda huffs but she stands up and begins to make her way to the showers.

“Yell if you need me,” Jemma says. She makes sure that Melinda gets there in one piece before heading to the kitchen.

It takes her seven minutes to make Melinda lunch. She sets the plate down and sits on the bed. Melinda stumbles in two minutes later, hair slightly damp. She wrinkles her nose at the food Jemma offers her and takes the mug of tea.

“Not hungry,” Melinda says when Jemma tries to give her the sandwich.

Dr Simmons fixes her with a glare. Melinda scowls but she eats the sandwich. Halfway through, the door opens and Phil comes in, carrying board games. Melinda brightens. Phil’s nice. He won’t make her eat the sandwich. Even if it is really nice.

“Oh, good, you’re eating,” he says. He turns to Jemma. “How is she?”

“Way better. Her temperature is 103.2°,” she says.

“Excellent. I’ll leave you two to it.” He sets the board games down and goes to walk out but Jemma stops him.

“Uh, sir?” She points at Melinda who is pouting although she’ll deny it if they accuse her of it. “Maybe you should stay with her.”

Phil hesitates. He doesn’t really want to stay with Melinda with Jemma in the same room as them.

“I’ll go,” she says, packing her stuff up.

Phil smiles and sits down on the floor next to Melinda. “I brought Mouse Trap,” he suggests.

Melinda nods and finds the red mouse. Phil sets up the game and takes the green mouse. They make it through two games before Melinda accuses him of cheating. Phil just smiles condescendingly at her and says her fever must not be gone.

 

Skye walks past Melinda bunk, glances in to make sure everything’s alright and stops and stares. Melinda’s saying something in another language crossly and Coulson is grinning at her smugly. He rolls the dice. It lands on a five and he moves his green mouse to the end.

“I win,” he says, settling back against Melinda’s bed.

Melinda throws the dice at him.

“Cheat,” she accuses.

“Bad loser,” he retorts. He glances at Skye.

“Cheat,” Melinda repeats.

Coulson snorts and she glares at him. “You just don’t want to admit I’m better than you.”

“You’re not,” she says.

“I won three games and you won … how many was it?” he asks, pretending to think. “Oh, that’s right, none.”

Melinda flings her pillow at him. It catches him in the face and he collapses sideways.

“Poor sport,” he says, voice muffled.

“Am not,” Melinda denies, kicking his knee.

His hand grabs her ankle and pulls her closer towards him. She kicks at him with her other foot but he bats away the pillow and grabs both her ankles. Melinda struggles futilely. She ends up sitting in his lap, his arms around her. Their noses are barely a centimetre away.

Just outside the door, Skye shifts in place, barely breathing for fear of interrupting them. Her shifting causes Melinda to look over and when she sees Skye, she wriggles out of Coulson’s arms and sits cross-legged next to the board game.

Skye smiles sheepishly at them both and flees. She berates herself the whole way back to the common room.

“I have evidence,” she announces as she flings open the door.

Mack and Fitz ignore her, both determined to beat the other in their stupid video game. Skye pulls the plug out of the wall. The screen goes black and they both turn to her with puppy dog eyes. She glares at them. Bobbi and Elena are playing thumb wars and Jemma is keeping score.

“Bobbi, Elena, if you don’t listen to me, I swear I will…” She trails off, not really sure what she will do.

“You will…” Bobbi encourages teasingly.

“Not tell you about the evidence I’ve got that totally proves that May and Coulson should be together,” she says triumphantly.

“You have evidence? Really?” Hunter says, walking in with a bottle of beer. “Last time you said that it turned out to be one of May’s pranks.”

“Well, how was I to know?” Skye snaps. “It looked genuine to me.”

“She’s right,” Bobbi says. “But it wasn’t. Melinda laughed so hard afterwards.”

“They were playing Mouse Trap and May accused Coulson of cheating and hit him with a pillow and he pulled her towards him and she sat in his lap and he wrapped his arms around him and I _swear_ they were going to kiss if they hadn’t heard me.”

“What, did you squeal?” Elena teases.

“No,” Skye says sullenly. “I _shifted_ against the wall.”

Hunter snorts. “Don’t you know spies have super-hearing?”

“I do now. I’m telling you, it’s real!” Skye exclaims.

“Prove it,” Mack says tiredly. “Pull up the video footage.”

“Melinda disables it,” Bobbi says.

“I put it back on day one of her fever,” Jemma says.

“Day four, actually,” Skye corrects.

“Great, so show us,” Mack says.

Skye pulls up the footage and when they’ve all watched it twice, even Hunter has to admit there’s something there.

“Do you even have a plan?” Fitz asks.

“No,” Skye says. “Well, yes, actually, but it’s not really.”

“What’s your not-really-a-plan plan?” Bobbi asks.

“Pester them about it until they give in,” Skye says.

“You’re going to pester one of the most dangerous pairs on Earth until they become a couple?” Elena asks.

“Okay, when you put it like that, it does sound much worse,” Skye admits. “But I don’t have anything better!”

“You’ll think of something,” Bobbi assures her, eyes flicking to the doorway.

Skye turns around and sees Coulson standing there, barely suppressing a smirk. He wipes his expression the minute Skye turns around.

“Skye,” he says, mimicking Melinda when she’s angry.

“Uh…” Skye flounders. “It isn’t like it sounds?”

“It sounds very much like you’re trying to get me and Mel – May together,” he says, cursing himself for his slip-up and then for correcting it.

Skye looks thrilled. “See? What did I tell you guys?” She beams at him and sits down on the couch beside Fitz. “Just wait,” she says.

Coulson narrows his eyes at her. He sits down on the opposite couch.

“So,” Skye draws out, crossing her legs and leaning forward. “What was up with you two in her bunk?”

“We were playing Mouse Trap,” Coulson answers, “And you are not interrogating me.”

“Pfft, this isn’t an interrogation,” Skye dismisses. “You seemed very lovey-dovey before I interrupted.”

“We did not,” Coulson says, standing up. He goes to leave but Skye stops him.

“Do you know she loves you?”

She sounds serious.

“She’s sick. She doesn’t have control over her actions,” he tries to reason.

“No. She’s lost the control to suppress her feelings,” Skye corrects.

“She doesn’t love me if that’s what you’re getting at, and I don’t love her,” he says firmly.

“You can’t deny it forever,” Skye shouts after him as he escapes.

“I am your superior and am ordering you to drop this matter and anything to do with it!” Coulson shouts back.

Bobbi and Hunter laugh so hard they fall off the couch and Hunter spills his beer. Skye sits there in shock, silent for once.

“He … he used his… What…?” she mumbles.

Elena grins. “He doesn’t want the subject raised so he used his power to make you drop it which just proves he has something to hide.”

Coulson appears in the doorway, startling them all. He points his finger at them all. “None of you will be talking about May and me,” he says. “Understood?”

There is silence.

“May and Coulson, sitting up a tree,” Skye sings. K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then–”

“Skye,” Coulson snaps.

“Fine,” she mutters.

“Good girl,” he praises.

“Can I just say,” Jemma says, “That while she was feverish, she did seem to want you more than anyone else. Something about the pain going away, I believe.”

Coulson scowls at her. He had thought Jemma would be the one person not to partake in this childish nonsense.

Skye crows in delight.

Coulson flees.

 

“I hate you all,” Coulson grumbles a day later. “Fine. I love her.” The words sound completely normal coming out of his mouth.

Skye jumps up and hugs him. “Yes! Now we just need to convince May–”

“Convince me what?” Melinda grumbles from the doorway, looking like she's just run through a bush backwards. Her hair is unbrushed and she's wearing grey sweatpants and a blank tank top. She feels much better, though. 99.9% better.

“How long have you been there?” Skye asks, brain working.

“Since you yelled yes,” Melinda answers. “Convince me what?”

“That coffee is better than tea,” Bobbi lies smoothly. “Skye pestered Coulson until he agreed.”

Melinda raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” Her gaze flicks across to Coulson.

“Um,” he says. “I plead mercy?”

“You already cheated in Mouse Trap,” she says.

“I did not,” Coulson says in outrage. “You’re just cross that I’m better than you.”

“You are not,” Melinda says.

“I am,” he declares.

Melinda crosses her arms and glares at him. He takes a step towards her.

“I,” he smiles smugly, taking another step.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns.

“Am.” He takes another step.

“ _Phil_.” She knows what he’s doing.

“Better.” One more step.

“I hate you.” He’s an asshole.

“Than.” Step

“You suck.” He’s too close.

“You.” He takes one last step and wraps his arms around her and boops her nose.

Skye takes a step back.

“You do not hate me,” he says. “For I am your best friend.”

“I am currently thinking of revoking that,” she retorts, snapping at his fingers. She tries to ignore just how close they are

He draws them back. “Liar.”

“Cheat.”

“I’m n–”

“La la la, can’t hear you, la la la,” Melinda yells. “Cheat!”

Phil picks her up and spins her around and grins when she uncrosses her arms and wraps them around his neck.

“I’m going to kill you,” she grumbles, glaring at her team who seemed to be having trouble suppressing their laughter.

“You wish,” Phil smiles. “You love me too much.”

“I don’t love you,” Melinda says. She ignores how her pulse is beating far too fast and how clammy her hands are. She is _not_ a lovesick teenager.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Phil says, throwing caution to the wind. He hears Skye’s gasp. He thinks of all the times they’ve spent together. There has to be _something._ He can’t be imaging it. “Because I love you.”

Melinda fall silent, frozen. _What_? He can’t. But Audrey… Why is their team still here? She starts breathing again. Her pulse races.

Phil leans down and pauses.

She can’t breathe. Is he really going to kiss her? Crap, why is he doing it with everyone watching? If he’s going to kiss her, he better hurry up. And then she realises he’s waiting for her. She tilts her head up and he bends his head down. Their lips touch and they pull away, nervous. Then, with more confidence, they fuse together again.

Sparks go off in her brain. Melinda forgets how to stand but Phil’s holding her. Finally, she thinks, while she still can. She doesn’t have to pretend anymore.

It seems to end too soon when Phil pulls away. His cheeks are pink and she’s pretty sure hers are too. They’re both panting lightly. She looks up at him with glazed eyes.

“Did that just happen?” Phil asks her.

“I think so,” she nods.

"I love you," he murmurs.

She swallows her fears and repeats it back to him. "I love you, too."

Slowly, her mind comes back to her. She remembers that her team, Skye more importantly, are still here. She swears softly and hides her face in Phil’s chest. Phil rests his chin on her head and smiles contentedly. Then he too, it seems, remembers about Skye. He sighs and breathes into her ear, ‘run on three.’ She nods into his shirt. He counts down on her back. When he taps three, they both burst into action. They’re out the door before anyone can even process it.

“Hey!” Skye yells. “You can’t just run. You need parental supervision!”

Coulson’s voice floats back to her. “I’m the superior agent on this plane!”

 

Melinda and Phil emerge from their hiding place three hours later, hoping the coast is clear. As soon as they enter the common room, Skye barrels towards them, hugging them tightly.

“Oh my God, finally,” she grins. “I thought I was going to have to give a slideshow about why you should be together.”

Melinda rolls her eyes. “I’ll return the favour, then. Now, Phil, who do you think? Fitz or Mack?”

“What about me?” Hunter protests.

“I am not letting Skye date an irresponsible, immature, idiotic drunk,” Melinda declares.

“Mack is Elena’s and Fitz is Jemma’s,” Skye says.

Melinda shrugs. “Oh well. I’ll just find you a nice civilian.”

“ _May!”_


End file.
